


How To Save a Life

by katmarajade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Community: springtime_gen, Family, Friendship, Gen, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:24:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When George contracts a terrible wizarding illness, Percy vows to do whatever it takes to save his life.  He runs into an old friend, and together they travel clear across the world, encountering obstacles both dangerous and ridiculous along the way, to bring home a cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Save a Life

Percy pushed out of the waiting room, mumbling an important-sounding excuse. He'd come as fast as he could, but he still managed to be the absolute last person in his family to arrive. Once more he'd failed. And the idea of losing George so quickly after they'd lost Fred was … well, it was completely unacceptable, in point of fact. There was absolutely no way that Percy was going to allow it.

Unfortunately, he was out of his league when it came to rare wizarding illnesses. He was going to be about as useful to George on his death bed as he had been to Fred, and that idea made him want to do something very rash. Perhaps blow up an unoccupied cottage or break a really expensive broomstick over his knee. He settled for punching a nearby wall, which hurt his hand terribly but left no trace on the wall.

He wandered blindly through the corridors, taking turns and stairs at random, trying to wrap his brain around the situation. He was just muttering a few choice curse words under his breath when someone came hurrying around the corner, intruding on his private moment of frustration. He straightened up, expecting to see a meddlesome family member or a rushed healer, but instead he found himself face to face with his ex-girlfriend.

Penelope Clearwater appeared just as stunned to see him, and she blinked at him through purple-framed glasses that she had not worn while at Hogwarts.

"Percy, what on earth are you doing over here?"

"Oh, just needed a moment of … looking for the loo," Percy finished lamely, realizing that he had absolutely no idea where he was and earning a skeptical glance from Penelope.

"This is the research and development office work area, Percy. The loos over here are for healers, researchers, and students. What are you doing at St. Mungo's in the first place? You're not ill, are you?"

"Oh, no—actually, my brother is. The healers, well, the healers don't think he's going to pull through."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Which brother is sick?"

"George," Percy answered shortly.

"Do they know what's wrong with him?" Penelope asked, brow furrowed with concern.

"Well, in typical George fashion, he's managed to contract an extremely rare wizarding disease that is, from what I understand, draining his magic and, by extension, well, _him_. Rather horrible, actually. They say he's only got a few days left at this rate. I'm not quite sure what to do about it."

"You're not a healer, Percy. You will just have to let them do their jobs and hope for the best."

"Yes, but hoping for the best isn't exactly going to be my sole course of action, Penelope. That's my brother! I've already lost one of them, and I certainly am not going to sit by and do nothing while evil things destroy the people I love!"

"You need to calm down, Percy. Time is of the essence and you're absolutely worthless when you're wallowing in over-wrought self pity. What did you say that this disease was again? It sounds strangely familiar. Of course, I'm in the process of completing my healer studies and I've been immersed in so many case studies in the last year that I can barely remember what color my own hair is sometimes."

"It's brown," offered Percy helpfully. "And still quite as curly as ever."

"Name of the disease, Percy. I swear that you've managed to forget every focusing and revising tip that I taught you back at school!" Penelope huffed impatiently and Percy was inundated by a fresh flood of memories of their school child romance back at Hogwarts, back when things were simpler, back when they spent all their time worrying about upcoming exams, sneaking kisses in hidden corridors. Before the war came and carved secret scars on everyone.

It was oddly comforting to slip into that familiar back-and-forth. Percy was surrounded by people who teased him about his attention to detail and his appreciation for proper etiquette and professionalism, but Penelope was the only person who had ever criticized him for being too _Gryffindor_.

"Dilliber Draining Disease, according to the latest healer," he sighed.

"Dilliber Draining Disease? I swear that I've read something about it recently, or at least something really similar."

"I'm amazed you've even heard of it—it's extremely rare."

"I'm doing my advanced level thesis on reintroducing old Muggle remedies in magical medicine. The wizarding world seems to eschew the use of traditional remedies, wanting to fix everything with magic—charms and potions instead of simple herbs and treatments. Of course, I'm not saying that the magical methods should be eliminated, but I think that there are new avenues to explore. For example, in a situation like this when they believe that there's nothing they can do to heal your brother. Magic offers no solution, but there are references in old texts that hint strongly that non-magical methods might! I think I read something recently about some plant being used to treat either this disease or something remarkably similar. I need to find that text again."

"Where can we find it?" Percy asked, already poised to move. If there was any possible cure for this illness, he'd find it. He would not fail another brother. He would show his family once and for all that he was dependable, reliable, and that he would go to the literal ends of the earth for them.

"The library at Hogwarts. Madam Pince hordes the most incredible collection of high-level research and old texts and I've been doing a great deal of my research over there. If I'm remembering right, it should be there."

Penelope led Percy through a dizzying maze of tunnels and two secret Floo entrances. Ten minutes later they tumbled through yet another fireplace into Madam Pince's private sitting room next to the library. Blinking in surprise, Percy glanced around.

"Are you entirely sure this is legal? Because this seems to present a very real security risk to …"

"Percy," Penelope interrupted with amused annoyance. "Prioritize."

"Oh, right—where should we start?" They walked into the library and promptly ran into Neville Longbottom, who was clutching an enormous, aged, green tome to his chest.

"Percy? This is a surprise! What are you doing back at Hogwarts?" Neville gently slid the book onto a table and smiled. Before Percy could speak, however, Penelope started in.

"Neville! Excellent. Professor of Herbology—we could use your help. I'm looking for references to a supposedly non-magical plant, which exhibited magic-like qualities in the presence of certain forms of magic, though it was never proven. It was proposed years ago as a treatment for Dilliber Draining Disease, but I don't believe it was further explored."

"Dilliber Draining Disease? That's a pretty nasty one, isn't it?"

"George contracted it somehow," explained Percy.

"Oh, dear. Well, I'm not familiar with that remedy myself, but it's very possible. There are thousands of non-magical remedies that were used by various indigenous tribes over the years. Do you recall where you read it?"

Penelope was already reciting a list of possibilities from her recent reading, and Neville began pulling out volumes and piling them on a nearby table. Once finished, the three of them stared at the stacks of books, which were precariously high. Grabbing several resources from the top of a particularly wobbly stack, Neville handed them each a book and they set to work.

It took six hours of intense research, but they finally found the journal that Penelope had remembered.

> The natives use an infusion of Rattle Root to treat snake bites and other ailments. When used on Muggles, it results in strange visions and intoxicated behavior, but, as that fades, the poisonous effects are also diminished. When administered to wizards, the hallucinogenic effects are negligible. It is my theory that Rattle Root absorbs bad magic in the tissues and brings it to the surface. This would explain why Muggles react so intensely, because their bodies, which—like all living beings—contain minute amounts of magic, are unused to dealing with concentrated amounts of magic. I have used Rattle Root in treatment of several wizards and witches suffering from magical ague with beneficial results. The attacking magic is neutralized by the Rattle Root and expelled from the body in a heavy sweat that has a strange blue hue. The plant becomes inert after exposure to magic and must be harvested without the use of any charms or spells. My theory is that its absorption effect can occur only once.

"I've never even heard of Rattle Root," confessed Neville.

"Neither had I, actually. Barnabus Bilius was killed shortly after writing this. Killed by some sort of local animal, from the sounds of it. No one ever returned to his research, and, over the last 300 years, it's been all but forgotten, merely a vague theory in a supposedly mad experimental healer's personal journal."

"It won't be lost in obscurity any longer! I am going to track down this Rattle Root and use it to save George," declared Percy.

"Calm down, Gryffindor," Penelope replied dryly. "You have no idea where it is or even what you're looking for. You aren't going to find an incredibly rare plant with just the power of good-hearted zeal and positive thinking."

"But …"

"No buts, Percy. We'll get you your plant, but you need to go about this rationally."

Percy floundered for a moment, unused to being called irrational. It was oddly empowering to have someone tell him how brashly Gryffindor he was. Perhaps he fit in with his family of cause-fighting zealots more than he (or they) had ever thought. It was a comforting thought.

"Damn rationality! We must act!" Percy all but shouted, getting into his new persona.

Neville and Penelope both stared at him blankly, and he flushed. Clearing his throat, he continued, "But a bit more research is obviously necessary first. Carry on, please."

Penelope immediately produced an enormous piece of parchment and spelled a map of the earth on it.

"If we identify the known locations of the species of flora and fauna mentioned in the text, we should be able to narrow our search to one specific region. Percy, you start reading off every plant, animal, or any other identifying feature—lakes, deserts, forests, mountains, weather, etc. Neville, you help figure out where those plants are found. I'll work the map."

They began working and the map narrowed quite quickly based on the mountainous terrain and the flora and fauna described by Barnabus Bilius. An hour and a half later they stared at a map with a large red-inked circle drawn over the middle of the North American continent.

"We're off to America! Or is that Canada?" Percy peered at their map, which held no political lines, for a moment before shrugging.

Neville replicated the pertinent texts onto a separate parchment. "Because Madam Pince may well kill you if you spirit her ancient volumes off on an exploratory plant-finding expedition in the Rockies."

"Are those the Rockies?" Percy asked, suddenly very aware of the fact that the Hogwarts curriculum contained a decided lack of non-Euro-centric geography.

"Yes," declared Penelope with assurance. "I spent six years in a Muggle primary school, where they placed a much greater emphasis on geography."

"Right, well then. That's at least a six point apparition. Probably best to take Portkeys if I can swing them, but my influence at the Ministry is pretty minimal at the moment, having, well, _quit_."

"Studying healing hasn't exactly lent itself to rubbing elbows with the Magical Transport crowd. I spend almost all of my time in a nearly deserted basement with my nose stuck in books."

Neville rolled his eyes and simply said, "Give me five minutes."

He slipped back into Madam Pince's sitting room, and Percy and Penelope peered in after him. He had his rear end up in the air, head engulfed in green flames, conversation muffled. Several minutes later he emerged clutching a small canvas sack.

"Anthony Goldstein works over in the Portkey office and is always willing to pull a few strings for a fellow DA-er, especially for a cause like this. There are three Portkeys in there—to Greenland, Canada, and into the States. It's too far to go in one shot. And Anthony said to avoid Muggle law enforcement as much as possible, because you don't really have proper authorization to be there. But that paperwork would take days, if not weeks. I'd go with you, but I have classes. I really can't leave. Good luck, though."

Penelope was already stuffing parchments into a knapsack that she'd conjured out of thin air.

"Thanks, Neville," she said.

"Where do you think you're going?" exclaimed Percy as Penelope grabbed the sack of Portkeys.

"With you to America, of course. You can't possibly think you could do this on your own. You've never gone a day without magic in your life."

"Well, it can't be _that_ hard!"

"Of course it isn't! But you're unfamiliar with it and bound to screw it up. I, on the other hand, have a Muggle mother who insisted that I know how to function in non-magical society."

"Oh, all right then. Did she also happen to train you to blaze trails though dangerous, mountainous terrain during those no-magic lessons?"

"Shut it, Percy. You need the help and you know it. You need a _friend_ , and, though we've barely spoken since Hogwarts, I'd like to think you still consider me one. Besides, I'm far more familiar with pharmacological herbology than you are. And, if this works, it will be _exactly_ what I need to support my thesis about revisiting traditional, non-magical remedies and applying Muggle advances to magical methods."

Percy briefly considered arguing, but dismissed the idea quickly. It wasn't as if they were trekking off to the depths of the Amazonian jungles or hiking across a blistering desert. America was a reasonably civilized country. Besides, there was no time to waste debating something so trivial.

"Fine, but this is not a research mission—we get the plant and get back to London as soon as possible. My brother's life is on the line here, and that is far more important than your thesis. And if you do anything to delay this mission, I'm up and leaving you behind—I don't care if we're in the middle of the Canadian tundra!"

"Well, according to our scheduled travel plans and the regional parameters of the plant, we should never actually _be_ in the Canadian tundra …" Penelope trailed off at Percy's dark look. "But your point is well taken."

"Let's move."

They took the Floo network to Hogsmeade to escape the bounds of the Hogwarts protection spells and wards. The three-leg Portkey jump took approximately twenty minutes, whisked them 5000 miles from home, left Percy feeling decidedly nauseated, and landed them in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

Percy glanced around in confusion, all while breathing slowly through his nose in an effort not to hurl his long-digested breakfast all over the deserted ground.

"Are you sure we're in the right place? I thought that America was, well, populated. There isn't a hint of civilization as far as the eye can see."

"This is it. Be grateful that they left this mountainous bit of land alone or your Rattle Root would be covered in shopping centers and subdivisions."

"So, how exactly do we go about finding this plant in an expedient fashion?" Percy asked.

"Well, our efficiency will obviously be hampered because of our inability to use magic around the substance. But it sounds like it grows in sunny spots, which seem to be all over the place. So we'll have to keep a sharp eye out. I hope you've got good hiking boots."

Penelope stared at her own practical, low-heeled pumps in chagrin before glancing at Percy's spit-shined penny loafers. "Maybe a quick spot of magic over here won't hurt," she allowed.

They quickly pulled off their shoes and Percy, who'd always been a dab hand at Transfiguration, turned their footwear into something a bit more practical. Penelope glanced at her stocking-covered feet and quickly conjured them each a pair thick, purple socks, a couple of jackets, and a canteen for water.

After an hour of hiking, Percy's lungs felt as if they were going to explode. Penelope did not appear to be faring much better.

"Bloody altitude …" she gasped. "How are we supposed to function properly with these ridiculously reduced O2 levels?"

They collapsed on a sunny, rocky ledge and valiantly drew in large gulps of air. Percy closed his eyes for just a moment, reveling in the warm sun and the cool, crisp, untouched (and poorly oxygenated) air that was so utterly unlike the London smog to which he was accustomed.

His moment of appreciation screeched to a sudden, terrifying halt as he heard an unmistakable rattle.

He stiffened and saw Penelope's eyes widen in such an extreme manner that it would have been comical, if he weren't so terrified himself.

They turned in painfully slow unison and came eye to eye with a horrid, brown snake, coiled up with the tip of its tail twitching in warning. Its pointed head stared them down, forked tongue flicking out as if tasting their fear.

It took them an impressive four seconds to remove themselves from the rattlesnake's reach. Percy, who'd never made any claims of athletic prowess, managed to leap a full six feet in one adrenaline-fueled jump, and Penelope moved with such speed that a professional Seeker on a Firebolt would have looked slow.

They did not even pause after their evasive maneuvers, and, with a piercing shriek from Penelope and a garbled panicky sound from Percy, they began running madly away.

Penelope slowed to a walk after about 200 yards, clutching her side, and Percy followed suit.

"You know, I really hate snakes," she gasped.

"They are rather unsettling," Percy replied, dusting off his jacket while catching his breath and trying not to look as if he just ran away like a screaming, little girl.

"Unsettling? You try getting petrified by a snake the size of the Hogwarts Express and then we'll discuss the full meaning of _unsettling_!"

"Yes, I remember that debacle all too well, thank you! My baby sister nearly got killed by that snake and its horrible, incorporeal dark lord snake charmer, and I was too wrapped up in snogging you to realize it was even happening. Leaves a bit of a bad taste, really."

Throwing her hands in the air, Penelope growled, "How we managed to stay together for a year and a half is beyond me."

"Oh, don't get like that. It wasn't so bad, you know, other than you getting petrified by an evil, giant snake and being stressed to bits over an escaped mass murderer roaming the halls of our school and trying to revise properly for NEWTs while my younger siblings managed to find themselves in life-threatening peril at least once a week and me getting hoodwinked by an imperio-ed boss and … erm, I see your point. But it remains a rather fond memory in amongst the rest of the madness, if that's all right."

Allowing him a rare soft smile, Penelope motioned for them to continue on.

"If our calculations and that map were correct, we should be getting close," Percy observed,

"It sounded as if it grew in sunny spots," muttered Penelope, as she rifled through a few of the parchments that Neville had given them. "Oh, here we are! According to this herbology text that Neville gave us in that stack of general information, Rattle Root grows in areas with a good deal of sunshine, usually near or partially underneath spiny hop sage bushes."

"What exactly does a spiny hop sage bush _look_ like?" Percy asked, making a face.

"Erm, it says that they're great, grey, brambly bushes with small pink or yellow flowers. Lucky for us, they're blooming right now, which should make them far easier to spot. So keep a close eye out."

"Does it say what Rattle Root actually looks like?"

"This journal says that Rattle Root is quite small and low to the ground, which might make it difficult to spot. It has clusters of four pointed leaves that are jagged on the edges and long, skinny stalks of flowering seed pods. Oh, when the seed pods dry out they make a rattle-like sound in the wind, which explains the name."

"Brilliant, so giant, prickly bushes and scary-looking plants that hide from view and sound like snakes. I am definitely not adding this to my list of dream holiday locations."

"It is a bit desolate," Penelope agreed, pushing her mop of sweaty curls off her face yet again.

"Fewer pickpockets than Egypt though, and not as horridly hot as …"

"Percy, focus," interrupted Penelope as she examined a nearby shrub.

Shaking his head, Percy knelt down and began looking closely at the local flora. The ground was littered with tiny, sharp rocks that bit into his hands, and the mess of skinny branches with their scraggly, dust-covered leaves began to blur together as he examined shrub after shrub. He let out a choked laugh ten minutes later when he found himself flat on the ground staring at what was unmistakably Rattle Root.

"Penelope!" he shouted, his voice cracking with excitement.

She dashed over and inspected the specimen, grinning at his find. "This is it! All right, there should be pretty deep roots, so we'll need to dig it out. If I'm not mistaken, those are what we'll use in the treatment. Careful, now," she whispered, voice hushed as though a loud noise might damage their new discovery.

Digging frantically, Percy painstakingly extricated the entire plant from the damp earth and brushed off the remaining soil from the white-blue roots. Penelope pulled out the canvas bag that had held the Portkeys, and he carefully placed the plant inside of it. Practically glowing with the excitement of his success, Percy didn't even notice the dirt caked under his usually meticulously-groomed fingernails.

"We found it! Now we just have to …" his voice trailed off as a low, throaty growl came from behind them. Glancing back, they saw an enormous mustard-colored cat crouching on a ledge about fifteen feet above them.

"Great buggering shite!" hissed Penelope, her usual decorum out the window in the face of the mountain lion, clearly ready to pounce.

"That's definitely not your typical kneazle!" mumbled Percy, clutching the canvas sack protectively against his chest.

"No! It's a mountain lion! Actually, it goes by a number of different names, including mountain lion, puma, panther, cougar …"

"Penelope! I … do … not … _care!_ Forget the bloody nomenclature lesson and tell me how on earth we're supposed to escape from this thing without using magic!" Percy hissed.

Penelope moaned slightly, "Oh, it looks hungry, doesn't it? Damn, this is not looking good. No! Don't make eye contact. Something about not challenging predators … oh, I don't know, Percy! I was kicked out of the Girl Guides after a week and a half for accidentally turning my Guider's hair purple when she took my book away. I never got to wilderness survival skills!"

Percy tucked the bag of Rattle Root into his inside jacket pocket, freeing both hands in case he needed to act quickly. He racked his brain, trying to think what the twins would do in this situation. Or Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They always seemed to emerge unscathed from appallingly perilous situations. The mountain lion's twitching tail was oddly hypnotizing, and Percy began to think that perhaps getting maimed by a vicious wild animal while on a daring search for a way to save his brother was not the worst possible way to go. Maybe his family would be impressed for once, would remember his present courage instead of his past cowardice. He was just about to tell Penelope to take the Rattle Root and run for it while he held off the bloodthirsty beast when a deafening blast rang out.

The cougar howled in a mixture of fear and frustration before darting away. Percy stood slowly, his legs aching from the crouching position he'd been holding.

"What _was_ that?" whispered Penelope, peering around him.

"I don't know," answered Percy, still scanning the horizon for the cause of the noise. His jaw dropped when he finally spied the source of the noise.

"No bloody way," he managed. Penelope gave him an odd look before her eyes locked on what Percy had seen. Her eyebrows disappeared into her now-disastrous mess of curls.

Riding towards them on a monstrous, black horse was a man in faded flannel, dusty blue jeans, boots, and a great, black cowboy hat.

"I thought they only existed on television," Penelope muttered.

"Tevelision?"

"Oh, forget it! You really should have taken Muggle Studies, Percy. It's a bit appalling how little you purebloods know about the rest of the world, to be honest."

The man closed the distance quickly, pulling up next to them and giving them a slow, curious appraisal. He did not appear particularly friendly, but neither did he seem angry.

"What are you kids doing out here?"

"We were out for a walk—it's such a lovely day out," chirped Penelope, looking a bit shifty.

"You ain't dressed right to be out here. And this here's private property." He took in their office attire, brand-new hiking boots, and out-of-town accents.

"You're obviously not from around here. Not smart to be wandering around like this. You're liable to get yourselves killed. Those mountain lions aren't as cuddly as they look. Most of 'em don't mess with humans, but there's one out there lately that's been attacking stupid hikers like you folks.

Percy and Penelope's eyes widened even further as they gaped at the cowboy.

"How'd you get out this far on foot anyway? Road ain't for miles, and you two don't strike me as outdoorsmen … or women." He tipped his hat at Penelope in a surprisingly gallant way considering that he was gnawing on chewing tobacco and covered head-to-toe in a thin layer of dust and grime.

"Sir, I'll be frank," began Penelope, finally finding her voice. "We've found ourselves quite turned around. We didn't mean to wander so far. We were looking for a plant that was used as an indigenous treatment for … erm, snake bites. His brother has taken terribly ill in London, you see, erm, because of a snake bite. It's imperative that we get home as quickly as possible."

Percy tried not to smirk as Penelope tried to tuck her hair behind her ear and stare up at the cowboy beguilingly. Penelope was pretty, clever, and witty, but flirting was not her forte. Her attempted use of wiles was further hampered by the elements. Her hair was a bushy mess littered with windblown brush, her face shiny with sweat and dull with dust, and a large streak of dirt was smeared across her cheek. She looked more pathetically endearing than sexy and enchanting, but it worked.

Mouth twitching a bit at her dismal efforts at flirting, the cowboy jerked up his chin.

"It's an hour's ride to town."

He pulled out a shiny black object from his shirt pocket and began talking to it.

Cocking his head to the side, Percy tried to figure out what the man was doing. His eyes widened when he realized that the cowboy was talking to the box, and Percy quickly backed up.

Penelope grabbed his arm and anchored him in place. "Don't be stupid, Percy."

"He's using magic! The Rattle Root is going to be worthless—I've got to get it away from here!" Percy whispered back frantically.

"That's not magic, you colossal fool. It's a mobile phone." At Percy's blank stare, she continued. "You've heard of telephones, right? That Muggles use for communication?"

Percy nodded slowly.

"They also have mobile phones—like these—that you can carry with you. They operate on batteries instead of electricity and …" She shushed him violently as the cowboy put away his phone and turned back to them. Percy still looked confused and a little leery, but Penelope flashed a too-large smile and the cowboy just shook his head in amusement.

"Just talked to Lindy. She'll be out here lickety-split with another horse and we'll take you on into town."

"Erm, you mean we'll be riding on the horses?" Penelope asked

"Unless you think you're just going to magically transport yourselves out of here, yeah, you'll be on horses."

"No! We can't use magic!" exclaimed Percy loudly. He cringed slightly when he saw cowboy's curious look and realized belatedly that he'd only been joking about magic. Clearly the sun and oxygen deprivation were getting to him. "What I meant to say was, horses—how delightful!"

"Nice save …" Penelope whispered sarcastically.

The three of them stood in mildly awkward silence while the sun began dipping nearer the mountain peaks. About fifteen minutes later a woman clad in a nearly identical jeans, plaid, boots, and hat combination appeared trotting towards them atop an enormous horse. She pulled up in front of them and swung off the horse in one fluid motion. Percy had a feeling that it was not quite as easy as she made it look.

"So, you two must be the weird English folks that Pete was telling me about." The cowboy, whose name was apparently Pete, gave a silent nod, and she continued. "We're burning daylights, folks. Hop up—skinny boy, you're with me."

She raised her eyebrows expectantly, while both Penelope and Percy stared at her blankly. Percy took a deep breath and walked over to the brown horse that the lady had just dismounted. He peered curiously at the animal, lifted one foot, then the other, and finally turned back to the lady, who was staring at him like he was crazy.

"Perhaps you might explain this a bit further. I don't think I quite understand the logistics of this. How does one get from here," he gestured to the ground, "to up _there_?" He waved his hand vaguely at the horse's back.

"I'll give you a leg up," said the lady, locking her fingers together in front of her. Percy glanced back at Penelope who shrugged; she clearly had no more of an idea of what this woman was talking about than Percy did.

"When you say _give you a leg up_ are you talking about an actual leg or is this one of those confusing Mug—I mean, American metaphors?"

"Put your damn foot on my hands and I'll push you up, city boy."

"Up? As on top of that horse right there?"

"Left foot! Right now, carrot top!"

Percy blinked nervously and lifted his left foot, setting it tentatively on the woman's locked hands.

"Sorry, it's a bit dirty," he mumbled and received an eye roll.

"Grab the mane, and on the count of three you're going to swing yourself up and over, you hear?"

"Yes, I hear what you're saying, but I'm not entirely sure that this is going to …"

"Three!" Lindy interrupted. Percy floundered wildly but gamely flung his right leg up in the air. With a lot of luck and a good deal of help from Lindy, he managed to mount the horse.

Staring around in wonder, Percy gasped, "I'm on a horse!"

"You sure are, carrot top. Now sit tight while we pop your girlfriend up over here."

"Oh, I'm not his …" Penelope began, stumbling to a stop as Lindy grabbed her left leg, pulling Penelope's foot into the stirrup on Pete's horse's saddle.

"Up you go, England. I ain't got all day—let's move."

"Oh, yes, I'm just not sure about this whole … OH!" Lindy pushed, Pete pulled, and a wide-eyed Penelope found herself sitting in rigid shock atop the horse.

Percy watched in disbelief as the woman flung herself up behind him, grabbed the reins, and kicked the horse into movement.

Pete laughed at the look on Percy's face and said proudly, "Lindy here's one of the only women around who can mount bareback without help. She always did hate saddles."

"Too constricting, too fake. Might as well be riding a carousel. You gotta _feel_ the horse, you know? Be one with her." Lindy continued explaining the wonder of horse riding, but Percy tuned out after a few sentences, worrying more about falling off of the horse than becoming one with it.

He held onto the mane but slowly inched down until he was wrapped around the poor horse's neck in a full-body hug.

"Woah, English—back off. She's a mare, not a two-dollar whore. You can't manhandle a girl like that. Sit up straight and keep your weight centered." Lindy pulled him up, wrapped a freakishly strong arm around his middle for a moment to stabilize him, and said, "Stop squirming. Relax and enjoy the ride. You're making this far more difficult than it needs to be."

Percy sat stiffly, hands clenched around the mane, fingers tangled in the hair in an effort to maintain the most solid grip possible. He was uncomfortably aware of this random lady's womanly bits being pressed up against him and worried that he was taking improper liberties by sitting so close, but he was far too terrified of falling off the horse to move from his position up against Lindy.

An hour later Percy and Penelope had to be physically pulled off of the horses. They were tired, sweaty, even grimier than before, and smelled like horses, but they had reached town (without using magic!)

Pete and Lindy dropped them off at a small motel that they said was very close to the airport, and then, with a wave and a tip of the hat, they were gone.

"This feels quite surreal. Were we really just brought back to town by cowboys on horses?" Percy asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Yes, we were," answered Penelope, frowning. "Clearly the only way to get home without using magic is to fly."

"Flying? There's no way we're going to find a pair of broomsticks in this tiny town, and I do not think that flying across an ocean in our current state is the wisest idea. We're liable to fall right off and drown in the sea and be eaten by sharks—and I've had enough of dangerous wildlife encounters today to last me a lifetime. Besides, flying uses magic!"

"Fly in an airplane, you twit! Muggles do it all the time. It's quite fast, actually."

"An airplane? Those are the metal birds that Muggles made, right? They transport human beings in those? Are they insane?" Percy nearly shouted.

"Flying is quite safe, actually."

"You can't fly without magic, Penelope," Percy argued.

"It's not magic, Percy! It's a combination of Bernoulli's Principle and Newton's Third Law and … oh, forget it!" Penelope shot back, obviously annoyed with Percy's lack of knowledge about Muggle aeronautics. "It doesn't matter—just trust me on this, Percy. The only problem is that we need to have the proper paperwork to get out of the country. We didn't come in through proper channels, after all. There's no way to make that happen without magic."

They agreed that Percy would remain at the motel while Penelope walked down the road far enough to be able to use magic safely without compromising the Rattle Root. An hour later she returned waving a pair of small books.

"Passports!" she announced triumphantly. Percy grabbed one and saw his own face peering out motionlessly from the first page.

"This will get us home?" he asked, too tired to voice the rest of the questions clamoring inside his head.

"Yes, all we need now are the plane tickets, and we'll get those tomorrow morning. Why don't you go shower—you smell awful."

They took turns using the tiny motel bathroom, washing off most of the caked-on dirt and horse smell, though there was little to be done about their clothing, which remained a bit ripe despite their best efforts at beating out the dirt and airing them out.

Penelope managed to fall asleep quickly, curled into a ball underneath the hideous duvet. Though exhausted, Percy did not sleep more than an hour or two, waking often and watching the slow progression of the clock. His stomach churned with gnawing worry over his annoying, ever-ridiculous, little brother, whom he could not bear to lose.

A man who worked for the motel drove them to the airport the next morning before the sun was even up. Penelope claimed that you had to have a special ticket that said your name and where you were going or they wouldn't let you on the airplane. Percy didn't realize just how expensive that this mode of transportation was—magical transport was far cheaper—and began to squirm nervously when the lady at the desk began to name prices.

They had no American money. They had no Muggle money. They couldn't use a charm to pretend they did without sacrificing the Rattle Root that was now wrapped up safely in a pouch hanging from Percy's neck. However, Penelope pulled a small plastic rectangle out of her pocket and handed it to the lady, who smiled and handed them a huge stack of papers.

Percy waited until they were out of earshot being whispering, "Did you charm that plastic to make her think it was money? You know that we can't do that!"

"Percy, that _is_ money in this world. Not everyone is still using gold coins the size of hubcaps you know. It's a credit card—very big in the Muggle world. My mother gave me one for emergencies years ago, and I think that this qualifies!"

"Well, I'll pay you back," Percy declared fervently.

"First let's get back to London and save George—then we'll talk about credit card payments, all right?"

Percy gamely followed her lead as they stood in a queue and a security officer looked at their papers. There was a mild misunderstanding when Percy thought the metal detector was a magical arch similar to the one that Sirius had fallen through and refused to let them walk through it, clinging to Penelope's arm and hissing dire warning about the danger of unknown arches, until Penelope shoved his hand away, walked through the machine, and reappeared on the other side no worse for wear.

They boarded the turbo prop airplane that would take them to Chicago, and Percy looked around in awe.

"Amazing! So people just sit in these cozy seats and this machine transports them all the way around the world?"

A pleasant-looking woman in a navy blue uniform with shiny gold wings laughed delightedly.

"I wish more people had your attitude! This is just a commuter plane—we'll take you as far as Chicago."

"I thought we were going to London," Percy exclaimed nervously, looking to Penelope who just shook her head.

"Relax, Percy. There are no direct flights to London from a town as small as this one. We'll catch a much larger plane to England when we get to Chicago."

"Fascinating," he murmured as he located their seats and began examining the tray tables and call buttons.

The flight to Chicago was quick and Percy spent the whole flight with his nose pressed right up against the window, exclaiming over the sights, the clouds, and the general brilliance of modern aviation.

When they boarded the Boeing 767 bound for Heathrow Airport, Percy was even more excited.

"This is incredible!" The flight attendants smiled in amusement at his fascinated exuberance, and one of them let Percy take a peek into the cockpit where two men in snappy black and white uniforms with jaunty gold-trimmed hats pressed rapid series of buttons.

They clung to the armrests as the aircraft hurtled down the runway and rose into the sky, above the dotted clouds, and began to chase the eastern horizon.

Penelope had purchased a small notebook in the airport and was frantically scribbling (in impossibly perfect penmanship for a person writing so quickly) notes about their experiences and her observations during the trip.

Percy scratched at his nose, which, judging by the peeling skin, was just as sunburned as Penelope's.

"I can't believe we did it," he whispered, not exactly talking to himself, but not really to Penelope either.

"We still need to brew the infusion when we get back. I can't believe that we've only been gone a day and a half—it seems like a lot longer."

"Well, we did pack a fair bit of action into the last 36 hours."

"Action has a way of finding you, doesn't it, Percy? I swear, nothing crazy like this happens in my life except when you're around."

"Our school days were a tad unusual."

"Just a tad?"

"All right, they were utter madness, but it's not like I was the one bringing it upon us. I was just trying to keep the world normal while it was spinning into war-driven chaos."

"I know that, Percy. You're a Gryffindor through and through—it's strange to me that your family doesn't seem to notice it. It might manifest itself differently in you, but it's obviously there."

"You're the only one who's ever really noticed that," Percy said, sounding a bit wistful.

"I won't be the last. You'll find someone who'll appreciate all those aspects about you."

"Is that what you've done?" Percy asked, noticing the ring on her left hand for the first time.

Penelope glanced down at her finger and smiled slightly. "Yeah, that's what I've done. We're getting married this summer after I finish my thesis."

"Congratulations," said Percy, surprised to find himself completely sincere.

"You know, back then I really thought we'd make it," she mused, a touch of nostalgia in her voice.

"We would never have lasted," Percy said plainly, flashing a self-deprecating smile that was tinged with regret.

"I know," she replied quietly, giving him a soft, private smile.

Percy cleared his throat and pulled out the packet of parchments that Neville had copied for them.

"Let's read through these and see if there's more about this infusion here."

They perused the pages, pausing when the flight attendants came through the cabin offering trays of dinner. Percy and Penelope realized just how hungry they were and ravenously devoured their watery lasagna and dinner rolls. A tiny black-haired flight attendant saw how quickly their food had vanished and brought them a large handful of crackers, winking at them as they tore into those as well.

Finally full, they both fell into the deep, untroubled sleep of the truly exhausted, awakening only when the cabin crew made them put their seat backs up and checked to see that their seatbelts were fastened for landing.

The jet glided smoothly onto the runway and Percy was relieved to see the gloomy London rain—they were home.

It took forever for the people to shuffle out of their seats, through the aisles, and into the terminal. Percy made a valiant effort to restrain from impatient fidgeting, but the Rattle Root lay heavy against his chest, and the thought that George was lying so still and un-George-like in a hospital bed across the city lay even heavier on his heart.

They walked briskly, following the passengers in front of them through the corridors, and ended up in a large room with uniformed officials at glassed-in booths. He nervously eyed the queue of people in front of them, which did not seem to be moving very quickly. Penelope glanced to the side and tugged him over to an empty lane, which no one else seemed to notice.

"Well, hello! Welcome to the United Kingdom!" said a round-faced gentleman whose uniform was not quite the same as the rest of the officers upon closer inspection. Penelope handed over their passports and the man examined them with great interest.

"Conjure these yourself, did you?" he asked, not appearing terribly concerned at their lack of documentation.

"We used Portkeys on the way over, but had to resort to Muggle means for the return trip because of some tricky potions ingredients."

"Ahh," the man murmured. "Wands, please." He briskly took each of their wands and weighed it on a small scale. "All right, everything seems to check out. Welcome home, you two!" Then with great enthusiasm, he grabbed a large rubber stamp and slammed it loudly onto their passports.

"I don't get to do that very often!" he confided cheerfully, passing their wands and paperwork back. "Have a nice day!"

Penelope whisked him through the crowds, pausing only to use a red, coin-operated telephone on the wall, while Percy gaped at the bustle of an international airport terminal—the people, the luggage riding around in circles on metal ramps, the signs in dozens of languages, the bored-looking limousine drivers standing around with small paper signs.

"Hurry up, Percy," she said, rushing them outside onto the curb.

"What are we doing here? How are we going to get to …" Percy jumped back as a tiny red car screeched to a halt in front of them, squeezing into a space that should have been much too small. The door swung open and a curly-headed woman peered out.

"Hop in!"

Percy obeyed immediately and Penelope crawled in after him. The car lurched forward before she could even get the door closed.

"Thanks for the ride," Penelope said, clicking her seat belt.

"No problem—you made it sound like a pretty big emergency. Who's the ginger?" The driver turned around to look at Percy, who was clutching any available handhold as the girl hurtled them through traffic at frightening speeds, switching lanes rapidly, and weaving through traffic. She was taller than Penelope and her hair was shorter and lighter, but they had the same riotous curls and intelligent eyes.

Percy smiled weakly, trying not to scream as she swung the car between two huge lorries with mere inches to spare. "Percy Weasley. Pleasure to meet you … ahhh!" A horn blared as she cut off a bus and sped down the London street.

"Oh, you're Percy! Penelope told me loads about you! I'm Audrey," she said cheerfully, oblivious to the fact that the right turn she'd just made had nearly taken out several pedestrians.

"My sister," Penelope added with an exasperated glance in Audrey's direction. "She's one of the scariest people in the world to ride in a car with, but good at getting places in a hurry."

Minutes later Audrey screeched to a stop and Percy forced his fingers to let go of the upholstery. He glanced outside and was surprised to see the Leaky Cauldron in front of them.

"Wow, that was quick," he mumbled, trying to untangle his long legs and exit the vehicle.

Audrey laughed in delight at his predicament and flashed him a huge smile and a wink when he finally managed to get out. "It was nice to meet you, Percy!" she called out, grinning when his face turned bright red.

Percy and Penelope rushed by Tom with hasty waves and burst out into the bustle of Diagon Alley. They tore pell-mell through the streets, weaving through pedestrians, dodging a wayward pram and an overly affectionate Crup, and garnering many strange looks. They reached St. Mungo's, and Penelope led them straight to a special employee lift that rocketed them down to her laboratory in the basement.

Both a bit short of breath, Percy muttered something about needing to exercise more often.

Penny breathed raggedly in response, "I never knew how much running was involved in this save-the-world lifestyle of you Gryffindors."

"There is …" Percy agreed between wheezes, "a ridiculous amount of running involved."

Penelope perked up the moment they stepped into her lab, clearly back in her element. She was already mumbling under her breath about ingredients and temperatures for the infusion. From what they'd been able to glean from Barnabus Bilius's notes, he'd used a very simple combination of water and finely shaved root of Rattle Root with a sprig of mint.

They worked in seamless harmony, slipping back into their familiar routine from their days as partners in NEWT level Potions. Penelope rustled through her store cupboards for mint while Percy examined a small pewter cauldron to insure that the bottom was the proper thickness. As he rinsed the cauldron and filled it with fresh water, she scrubbed the Rattle Root, washing off the dirt and grime. Once clean, the blue-white tuber almost glowed in the artificial light of the dungeon. She hacked the root in half, setting one section on each of the surfaces that Percy had prepared, and they wordlessly began cutting it into perfect, uniform slivers.

Their efficiency served them well. Just over an hour later Penelope decanted the steaming, translucent, blue liquid, on which all their hopes were hanging, into the container that Percy held steady on the table. Percy slipped the seal onto the phial and they shot out the door, leaving their workspace a complete mess for the first time since either of them had brewed a potion.

Percy spied Ginny first, walking through the hall carrying a tea tray and looking terrible. She caught sight of him and before he could say a word, she slapped him across the face.

"Where the hell have you been, Percy? I cannot believe you'd just run off like that when your own brother is _dying!_ Mum's beside herself and you just scarper off! Don't you care at all about your own family?"

"But Ginny …" he began urgently, only to be interrupted.

"I don't want to hear it—just hurry up and come sit with Mum. She's worried sick and was asking where you were. Lucky for you, Ron made up some story about an emergency at the Ministry to cover for you—not that you deserve it, you ungrateful prat."

"I don't even work at the Ministry anymore …" he mumbled, his euphoria dampened slightly by the fact that his family apparently knew nothing about his life. He felt Penelope frowning next to him but shook his head at her. There was no use arguing with Ginny right now. Her words sounded harsh, but he could tell by her suspiciously shiny eyes that she was lashing out at him more because she felt so helpless about George than because of actual anger at Percy. Ginny led them back to George's room, where a mass of somber redheads huddled together.

"Percy!" Molly exclaimed, rushing to hug him. "Thank goodness you're all right—Ron said there was a lockdown at the Ministry."

"I wasn't at the Ministry," he declared, earning a dark glare from Ron. Percy felt another rush of frustration welling inside him.

"I was here with you lot—you saw me! Then I went for a bit of air and ran into Penelope. She's been researching old Muggle remedies for her healer's license. Anyway, she recalled reading about this plant that grows in America and how a healer over there used it to cure something remarkably similar to Dilliber several hundred years ago."

"There's a cure?" The other four Weasley siblings were already on their feet and Bill was muttering about calling in favors to get emergency international Portkeys.

"Where the bloody hell do you think I've _been?_ " Percy exclaimed loudly, causing his family to fall suddenly silent and stare at him. He raised the small phial.

"Infusion of Rattle Root. It's not a guarantee, but I figure George has always been one for long shots."

Molly Weasley promptly burst into tears and Arthur patted her on the shoulder in a comforting fashion that he'd long since perfected. Bill and Charlie each clapped him hard on a shoulder, and Percy felt his teeth jar from the impact, but it was worth the possible physical consequences to see the huge, impressed grins on his big brothers' faces. Ron allowed him a grudging smile, nodding at him in what Percy recognized as an apology for his earlier outburst. Ginny smacked him in the arm and gave him a half-hearted glare, which morphed into a watery smile.

"Why didn't you just say so, you twat?"

"Ginny, language!" Molly scolded, but her smile was too large to take the rebuke seriously.

"Mum, don't you think that we have more pressing issues at hand here? Like getting this potion to George as quickly as possible?" Ginny shot back.

Percy glanced at the bed, taking in the sight of his younger brother lying unnaturally still. George looked shockingly pale in his white hospital gown without the usual eye-jarringly bright colors that he favored.

"Well, do we need to get the healer in here or what?" Bill asked, trying to move the process along.

"Oh, just give him the potion, Percy! The healer is just going to prattle on about there being no cure and waste our time. He's useless, really. I almost hexed him last night," Ginny demanded.

"She did. It wasn't pretty. We had to restrain her and ply her with chocolate," Charlie added.

Percy hesitated, but the sight of his vibrant, ridiculous, infuriating brother lying so still spurred him to action. Stepping forward, he pried the seal off of the phial and, with Bill helping hold up George's head, Percy poured the infusion of Rattle Root down George's throat. It was a testament to how ill George was that he allowed himself to be fed unknown potions, something he was understandably wary about.

The Weasleys watched in silence during the following hours as George tossed and turned, moaning softly and sweating profusely. The sweat was tinged blue and appeared almost phosphorescent on George's skin, and Percy kept repeating that that was a good sign, that the Rattle Root was working.

It wasn't until the next morning when George finally woke up. When the first words out of his mouth were _You lot look awful!_ and his blue eyes sparkled with a subdued version of his usual mischief, the entire family let out a sigh of relief.

Molly fussed over him and George whinged about being blue and sticky, but the atmosphere was light for the first time since George had taken ill.

Bill marveled over how George was the only modern survivor of Dilliber Draining Disease and how he should write a book about his miraculous recovery, and George finally asked the ten thousand galleon question.

"How did I survive if there's no cure?"

"Because Percy here hit the books, found some obscure reference to a possible cure in an ancient book, traveled all the way around the world, and tracked down a plant just to save you," Charlie summarized.

"Seriously?" George asked, eyes lighting up. "That's brilliant! I definitely need to hear this story."

And so they sat, six grown siblings squished around George's hospital bed. Percy related the story, starting with running into Penelope all the way to their return.

Bill, Charlie, George, Ron, and Ginny could barely believe the tales—rattlesnakes, cougars, cowboys, bareback horse rides through the mountains, desolate mountain ridges, metal detecting archways, airplanes, crazy Clearwater drivers …

Percy reveled in the attention. He looked around at his family and felt for the first time in a very long time that he belonged there. He'd spent so many years distancing himself from them, trying to be _Percy_ and not just another Weasley. Even once he'd come back to the fold, he had rarely understood them, seeing only the differences between them.

But now, this was exactly where he was supposed to be. He'd had to go halfway around the world and nearly get himself killed to get here, but he'd done it. It was a good feeling. Like coming home.


End file.
